


Static (n.)

by ladysassafrass



Series: Famous (Last) Words [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Zombies, England fell, Hurt No Comfort, It's not very fun, M/M, Pandemics, Reichenbach Falls, We're on a boat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysassafrass/pseuds/ladysassafrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>static (n.):<br/>4. a :  characterized by a lack of movement, animation, or progression; b :  producing an effect of repose or quiescence.<br/>6.  of, relating to, or producing stationary charges of electricity electrostatic<br/>7. of, relating to, or caused by radio static</p>
            </blockquote>





	Static (n.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

"WHERE IS HE!?"

"Captain Watson, we were just-"

"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS HE SO I CAN KILL HIM?!"

" _Ah, I presume that your lengthy pause, Commander Archer, means that John has found out. Over."_

"Found out? What the hell is Sherlock doing on the radio? What's goin-?"

"He's on a Merlin AW101," answered the steely-eyed man standing by the radio. He threw John a cold, hard look. "Left this morning at zero-five-hundred."

"It's zero-six-forty-five now, where the bloody hell is he going?"

"He…is conducting research."

"Research? What re- _no_." John felt everything in him drop. "No, no no no no. He is _not_. No."

The look on Commander Archer's face told him everything, and written in every line and furrow was an apology. "He insisted. I tried to stop-"

"Bullshit! You wanted him to go! You wanted him to go back _there_ -"

"But he snuck on the flight deck and onto the helicopter before we could stop him. They cannot turn around."

"Excuse me?"

"To get clearance for one ride _there_ was hard enough, let alone for _there_ and _back_. This is our only shot at collecting samples out of the source, and I'm sorry, Dr. Watson, that Sherlock Holmes got himself involved too."

John stared at him, seething. Archer stared back at him with hard, impenetrable eyes. Military eyes. It was the look you got when the only thing running through your head was the mission, and you would achieve that mission, no matter what or who stood in the way. John once had those eyes.

Then he started to care about the casualties.

" _Commander Archer. Might I request to speak to John?"_ A long pause " _Over_ ," grumbled the baritone voice.

Archer picked up the microphone. "Like I can ever tell you what you can or cannot do. Over." He turned to John and shoved the mike into his chest with a hard thump. "Freak wants you."

"His name is Sherlock," John snarled under his breath. Archer pretended not to hear him.

" _John? You there? Over."_

The voice had softened from before. It no longer contained the sneer that Sherlock used to defend himself against those who disliked him, who called him names. It was the John voice. And as much as John really really really did not want to speak to this exasperating manchild-

" _John?_ "

"…Yeah, I'm here." John sighed. "Two hours. I took a nap for two bloody hours this morning and you run off and do...this. Over."

" _No wonder you wouldn't bring me my coffee."_

"I would have poisoned your coffee if I knew you were going to give me a heart attack. Over."

_"Heart attacks are boring."_

_"_ Is that what this is? You got _bored_ on this bloody aircraft carrier so you decide to join a AW101 popping out for _London_. Just… why the fuck can't you just, I don't know, play cards or something when you're bored. Over." Every 'over' brought bile to his tongue.

" _They need samples, _John_. It's the work._ "

"NO. IT'S. NOT!" The radio slapped the feedback back in his ears, but John snarled into the mike all the same. "Your work ended the day the sirens started going. Your work ended when we left 221B and boarded this bloody boat. Your work ended when everyday _life_ ended, and I'm sorry that murder doesn't happen as often as you like on this boat, but you cannot just do this!" _To me_.  "Over!" he spat out in hoarse tones.

A tender pause. " _Do you expect me to sit on the sidelines, then? Over."_

"No! I expect you to not _try_ to get yourself killed. Over."

" _John, we're living in a pandemic. How long do you expect us to last if we sit and do nothing?_ "

"Longer than if you go and enter that…place. Over."

"Sir, they've entering the quarantined airspace," called out a radioman.

" _It's called_ London, _John. Population: fifteen million. We lived there. Mrs. Hudson lived below us. We solved crimes, you blogged about it, and I forgot my pants."_ John would have snorted if he weren't made of metal at that moment. _"Now we sit on one of three aircraft carriers carrying the 57,692 surviving Londoners. We wait for permission to enter the United States. And then we wait for this to spread to Paris, to New York, to Prague. You've never seen Prague, John. Over."_

"So what, you're securing a future holiday for us? Over."

" _Something like that. Over."_

"What does…what does it look like?"

" _The city? Over."_

"Yeah. Over."

" _All the buildings are still there. London did not fall down while we're weren't there. Over."_

"That's not what I meant. Over"

" _I know. It…It looks like someone put it in a freezer and let it rot."_

"Like one of your heads."

" _That was for science! I cannot believe you made me leave the heads in our refrigerator. Honestly."_

"Well why don't you go check on them while you're there? Wait no, please don't. Don't even leave that helicopter. Over."

John could hear Archer's boots draw nearer in impatience. 

"You know what?" John licked his lips and pressed together. "You can tell me more when you get back." _When you get back. Because you_ will, _Sherlock Holmes, get back or so help me God._  "I'll make you tea."

_"You already made me tea."_

"I'll make you more. It'll be ready by the time you get back. And then I'm going to handcuff you to the wall."

" _I've escaped handcuffs before, you know-_ "

Suddenly a lurch, a muffled static.

John seized the mike in a vice-like grip. "Sherlock? Sherlock, what was that? Over."

He was met with jagged bursts of spits and sputters.

"Sherlock, do you read me? Over!"

"Someone tell me what the blazes is going on?" Archer stomped over to the computer monitors. The radiomen were turning knobs and clacking keys frantically. There faces were ghostly white.

" _J-John?"_

"Sherlock, what the hell going on? Over!"

The sound went in and out in bursts of static like angry bees. " _I…something's hitting us- I think- I see-"_

"Hitting- what the hell?" hissed Archer, stalking about the room. 

"What do you see, Sherlock? What the hell is happening? Over."

"Sir, the AW101's losing power, their altitude is dropping."

"Sherlock! Get your arse on the mike! Over."

"… _the rooftops."_ His voice had dropped low. Very low. _"They're on- on the rooftops. They're-"_  

Archer had heard it too. If the commander's eyes were cold before, they now looked like the Arctic sea.  
 _Cold, in the face of disaster._

"Sherlock!" John's brain was now racing at the speed of light. "Keep talking to me Sherlock. Over!"

" _Window just broke- throwing bricks at us-"_ A crackle followed by a loud crash. _"Lieutenant-"_ Sherlock's voice got far away. " _How are we- Oh."_

 _Oh._ One syllable and it shook through John's being like a mallet on a bell. "Sherlock, what's going on? Over."

" _Erm…fu... fuel tank…leaking._ "

The room became deathly silence.Everything went cold.

"… _J-John."_  

"Yeah, yeah, Sherlock, I'm here. I'm here..."

The radio gurgled, like a dishcloth was wiping over the waves. " _It's - not much time- sorry. I'm so- sorry. Please for- me."_

"It's fine…it's fine… The words were dying on his lips. "Just...stay..." He pressed his eyelids together as hard as he could. "Stay with me. Over."

" _That- a drop. Dropping._ " And John's stomach plummeted too. " _Listen to me."_ The background roar grew louder and louder, Sherlock slipped farther and farther away. " _John_ , _I-"_

Silence.

The world hitched its rotation for a second.

"Sir…the…their engine just died."

 

 

Everyone in the room was frozen. Little green bars danced around in circles on the monitors. A few radiomen watched them, watched the blinking light that was no longer there, that just blew away like a piece of dust on the breeze. Everyone else stared at John, Commander Archer included. Their mouths were open, their eyes as blank as the radar screen.

Nobody said a single word.

 

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" John felt his insides ripping inside of him, his skin peeling and turning outwards. "Pick up the goddamned mike now!"

"…John-"

"Sherlock, I'm not kidding!" He was collapsing, shattering beneath this silence. The world was splitting in two, his very being was being ripped apart. "Pick it up right now or I'll-"

"John."

"I'll…I'll…."

 

The mike fell to the metal floor.

John could not hear it over the deafening silence.

 

  _God no._

**Author's Note:**

> May continue with this. Not sure yet.
> 
> Any and all feedback would be most welcome.


End file.
